For King and Country (34 page)

Sally gave a little shrug, and spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘I don’t think I can tell you anything else, Sergeant,’ she said.

He gave her a penetrating stare. ‘Are you sure about that, Miss?’

The sergeant and his constable were conducting interviews in the day room about the disappearance of one Christopher Maxfield, Second Lieutenant of the Australian Imperial Forces. The night
sister and night superintendent had already been questioned, and Sally had been detained for interview as well.

She turned two weary eyes upon him and held his gaze, noting the flaking skin around his eyebrows, and a couple of blackheads on his rather bulbous nose. ‘Quite sure,’ she said.

The sergeant looked at her steadily for what seemed an age, then said, ‘We’ve been informed that he was very attached to you.’

Sally stared as stolidly back, eyes blank and face expressionless. ‘Well, I had no attachment to Lieutenant Maxfield.’

‘If he was Lieutenant Maxfield,’ the younger policeman cut in. ‘There seems to be a difference of opinion about that.’

The sergeant nodded. ‘We’ve got it from a very reliable source that his name wasn’t Maxfield at all. He was a fellow that you knew, called Will.’

Sally’s eyebrows lifted then, and her mouth turned down in a fleeting grimace of mild derision. Her breath escaped in a resigned, regretful little sigh. ‘Your so-called
“reliable source” is Mrs Lowery, then,’ she said, and paused, gazing out of the window for a moment or two before adding in low, reluctant tones, ‘but I’m sorry to say
I wouldn’t call her reliable . . . exactly. Her husband doesn’t. She accused me of carrying on with him while I was their housemaid, and I left straightaway. Lasses in my position need
their good name, and I couldn’t afford to stay there until she’d destroyed my character with her flights of fancy. Her husband told me she’s given to bouts of hysteria.’

‘Oh, he does, does he? Well, it might interest you to know that our reliable source is Dr Lowery, and not his wife.’

‘Dr Lowery himself?’ Sally repeated, her eyebrows well up now. Dr Lowery had never laid eyes on Will as far as she knew, and it was on the tip of her tongue to say so, but maybe the
less she said, the better.

‘Well?’ There was a glint of suspicion in those black beads, which bored into her face from their puffy, wrinkled eyelids.

She stared into them. ‘Well what?’

‘Well, what have you got to say about that?’

‘Nothing, except that as far as I know Dr Lowery never saw Will. His mother knew him pretty well, though, and she got a letter telling her he was dead, so if you’ve got him listed in
your gazette you might as well cross him out again. Lieutenant Maxfield might have had a bit of a look of him, but he was nothing like the Will Burdett I knew.’

‘
Have had? Was
nothing like? What do you mean by that, Miss?’

Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. ‘I don’t know what I mean by it, really,’ she said, sniffing and lifting her apron to fish in her dress pocket for a handkerchief.
‘Except that the last time I saw Lieutenant Maxfield he was in a funny mood, and he said if his arm wouldn’t heal he’d be better off the earth. “I’d think nothing of
jumping off the Tyne Bridge,” he said. “Why prolong the agony?” That’s exactly what he said. I’m sorry, I’m tired, and I’ve just got over the ’flu,
and I’m not picking up very well. I seem to cry at anything.’ She dabbed her eyes.

‘Are you saying he’s done away with himself, Miss?’

‘Oh, I hope not,’ she said. ‘I’m just repeating what he said.’

‘Just wait outside, Miss,’ the policeman said. ‘Sister will let you sit in her office. We may want to speak to you again when we’ve interviewed some of the
others.’

‘But I’ve been on duty all night, Officer,’ Sally protested, ‘and I’m on again tonight. I’m dead tired, and I want to go to bed.’

‘Just wait in Sister’s office, Miss.’

She got up and wearily made her way to the office, passing Raynor, who was the next to be questioned. He gave her a smile and a nod of acknowledgement. It was then she realized her mistake.

Dunkley was in the office, getting the patients’ notes ready for the round. ‘Go down to the porter’s lodge and get the notes for the new admission,’ she
commanded, without as much as looking up.

‘I’m off duty, Nurse Dunkley. I finished my night shift an hour ago,’ Sally protested.

Dunkley rounded on her. ‘Do as you’re told, Nurse, and don’t answer back. And don’t imagine I don’t know what’s going on between you and Iain, either,’
she said, her pretty face contorted and ugly with jealous passion.

‘Iain? I suppose you mean Dr Campbell. I didn’t even know his first name,’ Sally said, meeting her opponent’s eyes with less sympathy than she’d have felt for an
insect on a pin. She didn’t care a straw for Dunkley’s petty jealousies now, or for ‘Iain’ either.

‘Didn’t you? I don’t believe it,’ Dunkley snapped. ‘But I haven’t got time to bandy words just now. Go and fetch those notes Nurse, and get a move on. And
I’ll tell you this much – when I get into that day room, I’ll tell those policeman that still waters run deep, and our Nurse Wilde knows a lot more about Lieutenant Maxfield than
she’s letting on.’

Sally hesitated for a moment or two, and then sauntered out of the office.

On her return with the notes she almost bumped into Raynor, who was just stepping out of the day room. He gave her a cold and distant look, far from his usual friendly manner.

‘That took longer than anticipated. They seemed awfully keen to know whether he could talk or not. Said
you’d
said he could.’

‘I never did. I said no such thing,’ she said, her face impassive. ‘If they’re saying that, they’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick, or they’re
fishing. What did you say?’

‘I told them,’ he said, ‘that I’ve spent more time with Maxfield than anybody on this ward, and as far as I know he’s never spoken a word to anyone.’

‘Me neither,’ Sally said, in tones as frosty as his. They parted company at the door of Sister’s office, when Sally entered and put the notes in front of Nurse Dunkley. She was
rewarded with a curt nod.

‘Good,’ Dunkley said. ‘Now you can go and clean the doctor’s sink before the start of the round. Make sure there’s a clean towel, and that the nailbrush and soap
are clean as well.’

Nine o’ clock already, and she should have been off at eight, but with no further protest she went and scoured the sink, and was rinsing and drying it when Knox returned from the day room.
Bristling with irritation, he went to unburden himself to a patient nearby.

‘Pair of cwetins!’ he scowled, jerking his head in Sally’s direction. ‘Some cock and bull stowy about the fellow being the girl’s sweetheart, and
English.
Girl wouldn’t have anything to do with him! I told them – the fellow’s an Austwalian – no doubt about it. I can wecognize ’em a mile away, insolent blighters! Not the
slightest bit surpwised he’s wun off! I told them, look on the first boat back to Austwalia – that’s where you’ll find him.’

Half an hour later, after more interviews, Sally was called back.

‘You told us something interesting,’ the sergeant said. ‘You said,’ he looked at his notes for confirmation, ‘you said: “He said if his arm wouldn’t
heal he’d be better out of the world than in it. That’s what he
said.
” Now most of the other witnesses have told us the gentleman never spoke. One said he was mute due to
shell shock. So can you explain how it was that he spoke to you, Miss?’

‘He didn’t speak to me.’

‘You distinctly told us he did.’

‘Can I have a look at your notebook, Officer?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry, Miss, you can’t.’

Sally took a notebook from her own pocket and scribbled in it, then passed it over to him, asking: ‘What does it
say
?’

‘It says: “I’d be better off the earth.”’

‘Well, that’s what I meant. Like people might say, “It says in the
Chronicle
,” or “When my bother wrote to me, he said this and he said that”,
meaning in his letter. Like it
says
in your notebook what all the witnesses
say.
You wouldn’t say he
wrote
that a thing happened, you’d say he
said
it had happened. I would, anyway. I can’t explain it very well, but anybody would know what I mean. He said it in a note. He was
always
writing notes,’ she emphasized,
marvelling how easily the lies rolled off her tongue.

The policemen looked only half convinced. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Well, perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding. You can go for now, but we may want to question you
again.’

Sally rose from her chair. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and turned to go. After a moment’s hesitation she turned back, and with great dignity, said, ‘I’m not in the habit
of telling lies, Officer. I was too well brought up for that. I think most of the people in authority here would give me a good character if you asked them, and everybody in Annsdale, as
well.’

They looked up at her, met her gaze for a moment, then the sergeant spoke. ‘All right, Miss. You can go.’

All right, Miss. A bit more conviction in that, unless she was deluding herself. She’d have to report off duty now, even though it was two hours after the proper time, or Dunkley would be
sure to kick a stink up. But it was Sister she found in the office, who looked at her with sympathetic eyes and shooed her away with that familiar sweep of her right arm, outraged that she’d
been kept up so long. She was to go off this minute, and get straight to bed.

Sally went off, but not to bed. She went straight to Matron’s office, and rapped on the door.

At a bench littered with a mass of paraphernalia, peering down a microscope so intently he was oblivious of her presence, sat the pathologist. Ridged bottles with ground glass
stoppers, racks of test tubes, pipettes, tripods, Bunsen burner, specimen jars, flasks and Petri dishes surrounded him, along with instruments whose purposes she couldn’t even guess at.

She gave a little cough. It had no effect. She gave a much louder cough, and got no response. She spoke up. ‘Excuse me, Professor, I’m Sarah Wilde. I think Matron just telephoned you
about me.’

‘Ah, yes,’ a voice responded, and a hand reached above the bench to pick up the pipe which was smouldering in an ashtray on the window ledge. The hand was thin and long-fingered, the
veins prominent, and the man who turned with his pipe between his teeth to face her was fortyish, almost skin and bone, his dark hair swept back revealing deep creases in his forehead. ‘Ah,
yes,’ he repeated, after several puffs. ‘So what makes you think you’ll be any use to me?’

‘You’ve got a vacancy, and when you gave us a lecture three or four months back you said you thought women were “eminently fitted for pathological work”.’

‘Hm.’ He stuck his pipe between his teeth and sucked a good draught of smoke into his lungs before removing it again. ‘What else did I say?’

‘You said the work needs people who are keen, dexterous, and good at figures, for working chemical reactions and statistics out. Well, I fit the bill.’

He gave her the ghost of a smile. ‘You’re sure about that, are you? But will you stick it? You don’t seem to have stuck nursing long.’

‘I’ll stick it if I get into laboratory work.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m interested in microbes, and how they cause disease, and what we can do to stop it,’ she said. ‘And to be truthful, I’d be earning better money, the
hours are shorter and I’ll get a half day on Saturday and Sunday off every week, so I could help my mother more. I’ll like the work.’

‘Don’t you like nursing?’

‘I like it a lot but the work’s heavy and the hours are long, and since I had the ’flu I haven’t got the same stamina. And I’ve got responsibilities at home,’
she lied.

The pipe went into his mouth again, and he sucked it thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Well, you don’t need to be particularly robust for our sort of work, and
I’ll guarantee your night’s rest won’t be broken by an aching back or painful feet. You can stand or sit to your work, just as it suits. You’ll certainly find it a lot
easier physically. But you might want to go back to nursing as soon as you feel fit, and then the time and effort I’ve spent training you will have been wasted.’

‘If I get the chance to work in the laboratory, I’ll do well at it, and I’ll stay.’

‘All right,’ he said, after some consideration. ‘We’ll start you on the bottom rung of the ladder and teach you as you go. I’ll give you a fortnight’s trial
and keep you on if you show enough aptitude. It’s Monday now. How soon is Matron willing to release you?’

‘When I’ve worked the week out. So next Monday morning.’

‘Monday morning then, half past eight sharp.’

She nodded. Good. She’d soon have the free time she needed to be able to tend to her own business as well as the hospital’s, so that was the first hurdle over. She left the
laboratory mindful of another one she’d have to surmount. That challenge would come tonight, but she was in it up to her neck now, and there could be no turning back. She felt some
trepidation, but no pricks of conscience, no sense of guilt. Rather die than tell a lie? Like hell! Rather not, nor let anybody else die either, or spend miserable, shaming years in gaol, if she
could help it. Truth was all very well unless it was set to destroy people who’d already suffered enough, and who hadn’t deserved their suffering in the first place, like Will and his
mother. In cases like that, lies must be justified. Lying done in a just cause and for a higher good, you could even think it a virtue. The more she thought about it the more she was convinced, so
since she had to live a lie, she’d live it boldly.

She was treading the parquet back to the nurses’ home when the porter pulled a patient out of the ward, with Crump trotting at the back of the trolley. ‘No rest for the
wicked,’ she said, as they passed each other. ‘What about Lieutenant Maxfield then? What’s happened to him, do you think?’

Lifting her hands palms upwards, Sally shrugged with well-feigned indifference. ‘Anybody’s guess, I suppose,’ she said, and saw Crump’s face fall in the second or two
before she passed.